A Bridge Over Troubled Water
by Shaneey
Summary: How would Draco's life have changed if Narcissa Malfoy passed away before his fourth year at Hogwarts? Would he continue in his father's footstep's, or would he blaze his own trail? HD AU
1. Prologue: 2005

A Bridge Over Troubled Water  
by  
Shaneey

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A/N:

Merry Belated Christmas to the worst third and the best third from the third with Harry's chest.

-Third with the Harry's Chest (or THC, for short)

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Prologue

Dear Weasleys…

2005

"What's he doing here?" was the first remark made into the shocked silence that had descended upon the room after a young blonde man walked into Gringotts' Private Room number three. The room's occupants were so disturbed by this man's presence that the very small, very blonde toddler currently nestled to said man's shoulder went nearly unnoticed, as did the slightly older child holding her father's hand.

Soon the many other people crowding the room began to protest as well, until the voice of the presiding goblin cut through the chaos.

"Mr. Malfoy's presence is required."

A cruel smile spread across the face of one of the room's red-headed inhabitants. "Looks like Harry's going to get the last word, Malfoy."

"Shush, Ronald." Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley scolded her husband. She had always been an observant individual, and she alone had consciously noticed the two children, and though she had never like Draco Malfoy, it felt wrong and petty to insult him in front of his daughter and son.

"Now that the deceased's family has arrived, the reading of the will shall commence."

Family?

The whispers spread like wildfire.

Ever the practical one, Mrs. Granger-Weasley attempted to answer the question that was on the tip of everyone's tongue (though if she was honest with herself, the answer hardly made any sense to her). "Harry's great-grandmother, Dorea Potter, was a Black; Malfoy's mother would be Dorea's great-niece."  
Some of the room's inhabitants, the red-heads included, nodded uneasily while others just gazed apprehensively at the goblin, as if the answer would appear on the leathery face before them.

Keeping his head down, the twenty-five year old Malfoy patriarch seated himself near the goblin (who was positioned at the head of the large conference table), keeping his son on his lap, and aiding the small girl onto the chair next to him.

The goblin cleared his throat and began to speak. "Those present today, by request of the deceased," someone sobbed quietly, "includes the Weasley Family: Patriarch Arthur; Matriarch Molly nee Prewett; primary heir William and wife Fleur nee Delacour; sons Charles, George, Fredrick, and Ronald and wife Hermione nee Granger; daughter Ginevra, wife of Seamus. Third eldest of the line has been excluded from this meeting. The Lupin family: Patriarch Remus; Matriarch Nymphadora nee Tonks; primary heir Theodore. The…" The introductions continued in true wizarding tradition, listing each family and individual by their proper name. Each name and title was expected until the last family was called.

"The Malfoy heirs and Potter family: Remaining Patriarch Draco, primary heir Asphodel; first son Antony."

Silence.

It seemed to last eons though in truth the first exclamation sounded barely half a minute after this odd revelation.

How had a Malfoy become the "remaining" patriarch of the Potter family?

The fevered discussions began again.

The goblin called of silence. "If there are anymore interruptions during this meeting I will be forced to begin again."

Slowly, the room quieted.

"The deceased requested that, rather than read a traditional will, each family be given a letter written before his death. I have been instructed to inform you that 'all your questions will be answered.' The letters shall be handed out in the order of the Call of Presence. Family Weasley, if you would send up a representative?"

Ginevra Finnegan stood from her place next to her sandy haired husband and moved to accept the letter.

"Family Lupin…Family Longbottom…"

The last family was called.

"Family Potter." the small girl looked up at her father inquisitively, and, at his nod, she slid out of her seat and cautiously approached the goblin. As she did so, the eyes of the room followed.  
How could that little girl be related to Harry?

Before the whispered questions could begin again, the goblin's voice rung through the room, "Mr. Potter has requested that each family read their letter in the comfort of their own home, and reconvene at the location and date specified in the letter. For the time being you are all dismissed, with the exception of Family Potter, of course."


	2. Chapter 1: 1994

**_A Bridge Over Troubled Water_**

**_by_**

**_Shaneey_**

**Chapter One**

__

I'm not sure what to say

****

August 28, 1994

Though this may have surprised many of his Gryffindor classmates, death had never been a part of Draco Malfoys life.

In fact, Draco Malfoy had never truly known anyone who had died. Both his paternal and maternal grandparents had passed away before his birth. There were no cherished great uncles or great aunts or great cousins that could have died of old age. (In fact, there were no uncles or aunts or cousins that werent either disowned or serving a life sentence in Azkaban.) He had no opportunity to get close or care for anyone who had died. No one had ever contracted a life-threatening illness or injury in his presence. Never.

Except for Narcissa Malfoy.

As Draco sat by his mothers bed, he couldnt help but notice the sallow color of his mothers already pale skin. Nor could Draco ignore the emaciated hand that grasped his.

When Draco had been told of his mothers illness, it hadnt registered immediately.

She had looked fine at the Quidditch World Cup, perhaps a tad thinner than normal, but now, a short week before Draco began his fourth year at Hogwarts, the blonde could no longer deny the existence of this illness, nor could he ignore the certainty of his mothers passing.

Passing. He hated the euphemism, but it hurt to think dying in reference to his mother.

He had spent hours next to her, watching her struggle to sleep; watching her struggle to eat; watching her struggle to speak. As the hours had passed, he had become almost desensitized, drone like, until the thought hit him, and he truly understood what his father had meant when he said his mother was ill, that it was unlikely she would recover. Until now it had only been words, words he knew but didnt quite understand. Now it felt like he was drowning in the knowledge.

His mother was dying.

Draco felt his throat tighten, and his vision started to blur, but he wouldnt cry in front of his mother. She had taught him that a true pureblood never showed distress of any kind for any reason, but no matter how hard he tried the feeling wouldnt go away. He almost felt ashamed, guilty even. His mother had fought so long against this disease, and he couldnt even stop _tears._

Draco gently removed his hand form his mothers weak grip, and walked out of her bedroom.

He might not be strong, but he wouldnt shame his mother by crying in front of her.

****

August 30, 1994



Young Master, yous mother is wishing to see you, sir, the house elf had said earlier that afternoon.

It was evening now and Draco found himself watching his mother sleep yet again.

He gazed at her, still shocked to his very core.

Her words had left speechless, shaken, and completely stunned.

Even as her speech had rambled and her voice had trembled, the message was just as earth-shattering, maybe even more so than if it had been delivered in his mothers usual clear, concise manner of speech.

She didnt want him to follow in his fathers footsteps_, t_hat she had made clear.

She didnt want Draco to support what his father had always referred to as a Glorious Vision, the Dark Lords vision.

She had whispered to him of what Dracos father had said to her when he assumed she was sleeping. His mark was growing darker, and neither his father nor she could see any other reason for this than the Dark Lords approaching return. How, she knew not, but Narcissa Malfoy was almost certain of its inevitability.

She wanted to be sure that Draco would stay safe, and, as she had told Draco over and over again in their short conversation, The Dark Lords service was _not _safe. He would only leave it broken and jaded if he left it at all.


End file.
